Queen Hildegarde eBook

And then, suddenly, even while she was laughing at
the cherubs, a thought struck her which sent a pang
through her heart. The cherubs would still smile,
just the same, when she was gone! Ah! it was not
all delight, this great news. There was sorrow
mingled with the rapture. Her heart was with
her parents, of course. The mere thought of seeing
her mother’s face, of hearing her father’s
voice, sent the blood dancing through her veins.
And yet—­she must leave the farm; she must
leave Nurse Lucy and the farmer, and they would miss
her. They loved her; ah! how could they help
it, when she loved them so much? And the pain
came again at her heart as she recalled the sad smile
with which the farmer had handed her this letter.
“Good news for you, Huldy,” he said, “but
bad for the rest of us, I reckon!” Had he had
word also, or did he just know that this was about
the time they had meant to return? Oh, but she
would come out so often to the farm! Papa and
mamma would be willing, would wish her to come; and
she could not live long at a time in town, without
refreshing herself with a breath of real air,
country air. She might have wilted along
somehow for sixteen years; but she had never been
really alive—­had she?—­till
this summer.

Pink and Bubble too! they would miss her almost as
much. But that did not trouble her, for she had
a plan in her head for Pink and Bubble,—­a
great plan, which was to be whispered to Papa almost
the very moment she saw him,—­not quite
the very moment, but the next thing to it.
The plan would please Nurse Lucy and the farmer too,—­would
please them almost as much as it delighted her to
think about it.

Happy thought! She would go down now and tell
the farmer about it. Nurse Lucy was lying down
with a bad headache, she knew; but the farmer was
still in the kitchen. She heard him moving about
now, though he had said he was going off to the orchard.
She would steal in softly and startle him, and then—­

Full of happy and loving thoughts, Hildegarde slipped
quietly down the stairs and across the hall, and peeped
in at the kitchen-door to see what the farmer was
doing. He was at the farther end of the room,
with his back turned to her, stooping down over his
desk. What was he doing? What a singular
attitude he was in! Then, all in a moment, Hilda’s
heart seemed to stop beating, and her breath came
thick and short; for she saw that this man before
her was not the farmer. The farmer had not long
elf-locks of black hair straggling over his coat-collar;
he was not round-shouldered or bow-legged; above all,
he would not be picking the lock of his own desk,
for this was what the man before her was doing.
Silent as her own shadow, Hildegarde slipped back into
the hall and stood still a moment, collecting her
thoughts. What should she do? Call Dame
Hartley? The “poor dear” was suffering
much, and why should she be disturbed? Run to
find the farmer? She might have to run all over